


Whatever Happens

by Thee_Maxwell



Series: Mortis Memoria [1]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28369698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thee_Maxwell/pseuds/Thee_Maxwell
Summary: “It probably gave you some type of trauma. It’s pretty common in ghosts, especially when it’s not a quick death. Dying isn’t exactly fun.”OrAlex was the last of the boys to die, and struggles with that.
Relationships: Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Series: Mortis Memoria [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174064
Comments: 15
Kudos: 179





	Whatever Happens

**Author's Note:**

> Hi big ole disclaimer that I don't have PTSD, nor do I know anyone who does. As such, I didn't explicitly say that it's PTSD in the story, but I tagged it in case because it's heavily implied. If I have anything dramatically wrong, please let me know, because I know this can be a touchy subject, and I'd rather not hurt anyone if I can help it.
> 
> I made myself sad writing this, so uh, I'm sorry. Also I've been meaning to write something like this for a while, I just now got around to it. Also also I wrote this in the few hours I had before work so I did not proofread much.
> 
> I'm so sorry, Alex.

Alex laid awake, twirling a drumstick in his right hand. His left was occupied by the boy snoring next to him. Willie had grabbed his hand before falling asleep, but now Alex feared waking him up if he let go.

It was also just nice to hold.

Even in sleep, Willie still held firm, despite his whole body being naturally loose and free. Alex felt grounded by it, reminded that this was a different time, that he was okay (even if he was dead). 

But the reminder that he was dead had been resting heavily on his mind recently. Everything had been going well since the Orpheum; he had a good system with Willie that would keep them safe, helped by the fact that Caleb had been MIA for the past few weeks. The band was more successful than any of them could have hoped for this early in their career, and Julie was somehow managing to keep her grades up despite this.

It just seemed too good.

So Alex’s brain started what it does best: overthinking.

Alex had dealt with anxiety attacks before, but this was something else. Usually, that was dealing with things actively happening, things that he could at least hope to change. But now, there was a dread that he couldn’t place. He’d be distant without realizing it. He was snapping at Reggie more than just bantering back, was just generally more reactive to anything and everything. The boys called him out for it, but he never had a real answer as to what was going on.

Sleep was the worst, though. Always a vivid dreamer, Alex had loved sleeping in the 90s. It gave him an escape from whatever he was dealing with at any specific time. But now, it seemed that every other night he just dreamt of the band dying. Of his best friends dying.

Sometimes it was in the third person, like he was just rewatching the scene, but other times it was personal. He’d relived the event more than times he had ever wanted to, which, for the record, was zero times.

Alex didn’t realize how quickly he was spinning his drumstick until it flew out of his hand, clattering on the floor. He flinched, checked to make sure Willie was still asleep, then sat up to look for it. It had flown past the foot of the mattress that was shoved up in the loft, too far for Alex to retrieve if he didn’t want to let go of Willie’s hand.

He opted to lie back down, maybe close his eyes and hope he could rest for a little bit. It wasn’t a minute later, however, that he heard Willie stop snoring. Alex snapped his eyes shut, trying to fake sleeping, but his brain just started going again. 

“What’s got you awake, Hotdog?”

Alex flinched, then cursed under his breath. Willie squeezed his hand but didn’t say anything else.

“I _told_ you I don’t like that nickname.” Alex refused to look Willie in the eye, despite the boy specifically turning to look at him. He could feel Willie studying his face like he was some experiment.

“You’re cute when you get flustered.” Willie smiled and ran his thumb over Alex’s knuckles. The blond’s face was slightly red, and he was looking away like he was embarrassed. They laid in silence for a few moments, Alex never turning to look at Willie. 

“I’m not,” Alex forced out, fighting back tears. His throat felt thick, voice unnaturally dark, and mean. He took a breath, hoping that could clear it up. “Not flustered. I just. I don’t know.”

Willie began to sit up, realizing that there was something very not right with his boyfriend. They had discussed Alex having anxiety but had never had a real incident. 

“Hey, Alex, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” Alex shook his head, still not looking at Willie’s face. He knew it would be too sincere, full of worry, and all he wanted to do right now was curl up, far away from anyone. He started to pull his hand out of Willie’s, who let him go, clearly trying to let Alex control the situation.

He pulled into himself, but was suddenly all too warm, the single thin blanket over the two of them too much. Alex heard shuffling, assumed that Willie was leaving, which was probably for the best. 

A hand reached out in front of him, holding out the drumstick he had thrown earlier. Alex gently took it and tapped it in his other palm before fiddling with it again. Willie sat down on the mattress a couple of feet away from the drummer, who finally looked up. 

His eyes were glassy, his face still flushed. He had bed head that was probably the worst Willie had seen in a while, and the skater fought brushing it down with his hand. Alex chewed on his lip, then shook his head. The drumstick started twirling again.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but you can if you want.” 

As he nodded, Alex took his free hand to try and run it through his hair, but was met with more of a fight than expected. Willie stifled a laugh, knowing the pain of knotted hair, which received a playful look from Alex.

“There he is,” Willie commented, mostly to himself. Alex rolled his eyes, before taking in another large breath.

“I don’t know.” 

Willie cocked his head, waiting for the rest of a sentence that wasn’t coming. Alex looked so sincere in his answer, even if it was the least helpful thing he could have said.

“Brilliant, babe. It’s a mystery why you’re not the writer of the band.”

Alex lightly shoved Willie but laughed out, “jerk.” The two giggled for a little bit before Alex continued.

“Really, I don’t know. You know how I’m an anxious person?” Willie nodded. “Well, this is different. I’ve been remembering the day I died recently. Like, a lot. But not in a ‘I’m very aware that I’m dead and this is how it happened’ kind of way. More of a ‘I’m experiencing my death again’ kind of way.”

“It probably gave you some type of trauma. It’s pretty common in ghosts, especially when it’s not a quick death. Dying isn’t exactly fun.”

“Okay, fine, but. This doesn’t, I mean, like, I don’t think it’s _me_ dying, if that makes sense. No, it doesn’t. Nevermind.”

Willie shook his head, reaching out to grab Alex’s hand. The blond tensed initially but quickly melted back into it. “Talk me through it if you don’t think it makes sense.”

Alex had to pause, thinking of how to phrase what his brain was feeding him. 

“So, I’ve mentioned that Luke, Reggie, and I all died at the same time.” He waited for Willie’s approval before continuing. “Well, that’s not fully true. I died about ten minutes later than the others.”

Suddenly, he was there. He blinked, and the streets of Hollywood were before him. He was seated on the dingy couch in the back of an alley, Luke and Reggie to his right. He was talking. They responded. They kept eating. 

‘Stop.’ he told himself. He wanted to throw the hotdog away, tell the others to do the same, but he had no control of his body. 

He looked over to Luke, who was coughing slightly, holding his stomach. He looked grey. Reggie glanced between the two, worried for their friend but not knowing what to do. It felt like a second later that Luke started puking. 

It didn’t stop. Reggie was triggered by Luke into also throwing up. He was able to hold it off for a little bit, but it wasn’t long before Alex was busy trying to get the boys on their sides, remembering the minimal that he had paid attention to in health class. He yelled at anyone around to call an ambulance, that they had a concert tonight, and had to be able to make it.

At least, that’s what he thought he was saying. In hindsight, he was frantically screaming mostly gibberish, in an attempt to stay calm. 

Luckily, someone understood him, and a couple of minutes later, paramedics pulled up to the scene. Alex was feeling light-headed but was grateful at the sirens coming nearer. He could hear voices yelling, unable to make out what was being said. 

A hand grabbed his elbow, trying to get his attention, maybe to get him to stand up? Alex wasn’t really sure. They were asking him something. He couldn’t hear what.

He threw up on the EMT’s boot.

All at once, he was being put on a gurney, his sleeves were cut off, and an IV was put in. All three of them were wheeled into the ambulance, and Alex made the mistake of looking to check up on his friends. His brothers.

Luke was still moving, barely, but he was fighting. Reggie wasn’t. 

Alex swears he could see two Reggies. One was laying down on the bed, paramedics over his body, clearing him for chest compressions. But there was another, standing above the bed, a very confused look on his face.

“Call it,” Alex was able to hear one of them say. He looked again, only one Reggie visible this time. And he was so very dead.

A sob ripped out of Alex, his body instinctively jerking towards his friend, which only made him nauseous again. The bile rose in his throat, he knew that he was going to start puking again, but that didn’t matter. 

Two pairs of hands pushed him back down, telling him that he needed to stay down, but he fought them enough to turn to the side to throw up. His throat burned, but he felt more coming. He closed his eyes, hoping that maybe the tears would stop, but they never did. 

There was shuffling to his left, coming from Luke. One of the paramedics yelled something about seizing, and Alex felt another wave of tears coming. Trying to look at Luke was a struggle, his vision was blurry, and the bright lights inside of the ambulance hurt. He saw the paramedics manhandling him onto his side, but he was gagging on vomit, and they all shared knowing looks. 

Alex reached out, or tried to, at least, wanting to hold his hand, tell him it’s okay, _something_ , but he was pushed down again, told to stop moving. 

“Lucas Patterson,” he tried to say before being cut off with more bile. He braced himself, though, trying again. “You’re a legend, Luke. You can’t, you can’t die.” His voice was weak, partially from the burning, but the tears cut him off as well. Alex thinks he saw a second Luke, like he had with Reggie. But he blinked, and he was gone.

Soon enough, Luke was declared dead, and Alex found the fight in him leaving. He stopped squirming, letting the paramedics do what they needed to. But he knew it was worthless. He’d eaten a hotdog, same as the others had. He never stopped crying, just closed his eyes and hoped for it to be over soon.

Alex blinked, taking in his surroundings. The loft, Julie’s house. Right. Willie was looking at him, concern flooding his face, but staying away in case touching Alex would trigger anything again.

“You had a flashback, didn’t you?”

Alex nodded, trying to steady his breathing. Normally he’d just remind himself that he no longer needed air, but that didn’t exactly calm his nerves in the moment.

“I, uh. Luke. He was affected first. Started throwing up before Reggie or me. He hadn’t eaten anything that day, so it just came right back. But Reggie, he died first. Almost as soon as we got in the ambulance, he was pronounced dead. Luke followed pretty soon after. I just.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Willie was nearly whispering, rubbing Alex’s shoulder with his thumb. 

“No, just. I think like, what if I made it. I was fighting until Luke died, but what if I continued? I could have talked to their parents. Bobby wouldn’t have been left alone. Luke’s big dream was to leave a mark, and yeah, we’re doing that now. But I could have started that before.”

“You were dying, Alex. And you watched your best friends die. No one was asking you to fight if you couldn’t anymore.” 

Alex shook his head, wiping the tears from his face. He grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder and laced their fingers together.

“Have you talked to either of them about this?”

“No. We have this joke that I’m like, the soft one. Which was only spurred on by the fact that I cried the entire time we were in the dark room. I don’t know how to tell them that it’s because I literally watched their ghosts leave their bodies, and I couldn’t live with the fact that they were gone.”

“First of all, if you _saw their ghosts_ , then there was no way you were surviving, so all the ‘what ifs’ regarding your living could not have happened. Second, you should talk to them. I’m sure they’ll want to know what’s going on. They love you.”

“I know.” Alex looked up to Willie’s face. It was a bizarre mix of staying firm for the sake of his boyfriend, but also soft, and gentle, filled with unspoken love. 

“Can you hold me?” Alex whispered, feeling small. Willie just smiled at him and nodded, moving behind the blond. He sat down, grabbing Alex’s waist, pressing his chest to his back, and kissed his neck gently. 

Alex blushed again, lowering his head to hide it. Willie grinned into his neck before kissing it again.

“See? Cute when you’re flustered.” He got a groan in response, but they quickly settled into silence, which Willie quickly broke. “You wanna try sleeping? I’m here if you need anything.”

Alex shook his head. “Ghosts don’t need sleep. Especially not ghosts with amazing ghost boyfriends to talk to.”

“Aw, babe, you think I’m amazing?”

“I also thought hotdogs were amazing, so I'd watch it if I were you.”

“Well, I don’t have any plans to off you any time soon, so.”

“I don’t know, Willie, how many times have I fallen off your skateboard?”

“I’m telling you, you’re cute when you’re embarrassed. I gotta take every opportunity I get.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Sure, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you all had a happy holiday, whatever y'all might celebrate. <3
> 
> (Also for the 0 people wondering, I put Reggie to die first because he is a.) The smallest of the boys, and b.) I feel like slightly malnourished bc I imagine his parents kind of forgetting to feed him. And I have Like second box I think he probably ate enough, but it was likely food that isn't great, but is cheap, since, ya know, he didn't have a house or anything. And idk I feel like Alex being last makes sense.)
> 
> Update that no one asked for, not commented on: ambulances most definitely don't have enough space to fit all the boys but,,, suspend disbelief for the short scene pls thank you


End file.
